


Through the heart beating out my chest.

by Erensbyotch



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bucky and Nat are roommates, Bucky likes it too, First Meetings, I Blame Tumblr, I tried ok, I'm so bad at this, M/M, Mature Language but not too much, Minor Natasha - Freeform, POV Bucky Barnes, Steve likes to paint walls sweated and shirtless, Straight as a Shield Characters, Up all night to get Bucky, i love tags, tags are cool
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 22:51:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5067925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erensbyotch/pseuds/Erensbyotch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which James "Bucky" Barnes is not really lucky when you talk about houses. <br/>First, the house he was going to buy just got miley-cyrused and got wrecked by an actual wrecking ball.<br/>Two years later, when he decided to move in with his bestfriend Nat, they found a really nice apartment, except for one, small and insignificant detail: it was completely empty and in an urgent need of a restoration. </p><p>In which Nat also knows a guy who's really kind and volunteers to help them paint the walls without his shirt on for the glory of humanity.  </p><p>Or: Bucky is angry, Steve is shirtless, Bucky is no longer angry and he swears he feels infinite.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through the heart beating out my chest.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IJustReallyLikeFluff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IJustReallyLikeFluff/gifts).



James Barnes looked down on his phone, his eyebrows furrowed and figurative steam smoking out of his ears. His free hand ran through his hair while he thought of a way to politely ask the man in front of him to _go fuck himself with a fucking metal arm._

Really, he normally wasn't such a vulgar person (he actually disliked all those youngsters running around and screaming blasphemies or random insults for no apparent reason), but that really wasn't even his kind of day. Actually, it hasn't been his kind of week either.

It all had started when he moved from his native, little, warm and cozy town to the big crowded city. A week ago, exactly.

At first, he thought that moving out from his parents house at the age of 22 to go find a job and live the "American dream", whatever the hell that meant, was a goddamn good idea. Now, his eyes fixed on the other one's and his brain spewing insults that were so colorful they would have made jealous the pride flag, he was no longer convinced of the geniality of said idea.

« I am so sorry, sir, but we can't do anything else about it. You'll have to find another place to stay. »

_Because that's gonna be hella easy, isn't it?_

He thought, giving the man no more than a nod and turning around without saying a single word. That because he was pretty sure he wouldn't have been nice if he only dared to open his mouth just a little.

Still angry, he got slowly back to the hostel he was staying.

That really wasn't how he expected his mature moving out would have been, but he honestly should have known. The entire universe was telling him how bad that idea was ― but Bucky (that's how he used to call himself and so did the others) was stubborn. He told his parents he could have made it, and so he would have. Even if the house he was going to buy just got miley-cyrused and got wrecked by an actual wrecking ball.

When he opened his hostel room's door he immediately dived himself on the bed with a deep sigh. He probably should have given his parents a call by now, but he wasn't in the mood for hearing the words "we told you so" for the seventieth time in a week, he really wasn't.

He sighed with a dispirited glance to the grim sky, wondering why the universe always had to mock him.

Little did he know that not always the bad wrongs.

 

━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

Two years had passed since that day, and yet Bucky still asked himself that same, old question.

He even wonders it now while he's trying to find his goddamn keys to the apartment he bought a few weeks before with his best friend, Nat. A really nice apartment though, except for one, small and insignificant detail: it was completely empty and in an urgent need of a restoration.

Since he really had no idea where to start, the redhead took the situation on her own hands and called a bunch of buds, whom James had never heard of, and put them into the house re-styling. And without paying a single cent.

Now, he honestly didn't want to know how she did it. She may have been his best friend, but there were a lot of things that were probably just fine where they were: in the darkness, somewhere, where he really wasn't interested in.

But it wasn't all fun and games since there still was a lot to buy, and decide, and move, and try, and _holy fuck that was so freaking stressing holy shit_.

He wasn't the guy for that kinda work, not even a little bit. Maybe in his next life, but right now he used to feel more like a sloth than an actual human being and it was just fine.

As a matter of fact, when he finally managed to open the door all he could think of was just his warm and soft and large bed, the only furniture in his room.

Just the thought of it made him smile in beatitude ― a smile that lasted no more than five seconds when he heard of a noise coming from the kitchen.

 _Fuck_. He thought in a suffering tone. He completely forgot about the guys now painting his house.

Maybe a simple "hello" would have been enough? It's not like he had to maintain an entire conversation or something like that, right? A simple hello and the head to bed. That sounded like a majestic plan indeed.

So when he walked the kitchen door, he didn't have the slightest suspect of what was about to happen. Or that he'd be back at smiling in beatitude for a hell of another reason.

He had to blink twice to make sure he wasn't having some sort of hallucination.

Because for him, the shirtless, sweated hella good looking dude in front of him was one of the most paradisiacal hallucinations of all time. 

 _Wow_. He thought _. Just ... wow_.

If he ever doubted about Nat's ideas of inviting her friends to paint the house ― and he actually did once or twice ― well, now he surely wasn't.

Just then, the shirtless sweated etc. etc. dude turned his back to face him and _jesus fucking christ were those eyes even real ???_

The guy looked at him with a warm smile, and he flushed, realizing maybe too late that he was staring shamelessly at those heavenly abs. Still, wasn't regretting a thing.

« You must be James. » he said, stepping towards him.

«  Bucky. » he corrected instinctively, smiling after that. « Everyone calls me Bucky, actually. Nice to meet you. »

« Bucky. » the man repeated, as if he was considering every syllable of his name. « I'm Steve Rogers, Nat's friend. »

So, the shirtless blah blah blah dude's name was Steve. The name kind of made him want to laugh. He had thought his name would have been something macho, or maybe something that was a synonymous of "heaven". Steve sounded a little bit too common for a face like that.

Silence fell between the two of them, and Bucky realized he probably had to say something, or do something, or silently run away into his room to stalk the guy on facebook.

Instead, he said something that regretted as soon as the words got out of his mouth: « Hey, got something to do now? »

The desire of slapping himself was strong, really strong. So strong he would probably have done so if Steve hadn't answered when his hand was already half the way to his face.

« Beside finish painting the kitchen wall, nothing. Why? »

_Uh, dunno. That's a good question. Why Bucky, why?_

« Well, I was thinking ― maybe we could grab a drink or something. It's almost eight o' clock, the kitchen wall can wait. » he tried, with the most innocent but yet convincing smile he could came out with. So, not really a great one.

« But if you don't want to, don't feel forced to ― » he added quickly when he saw that the man wasn't answering. Stupid Bucky, stupid.

« I want to. I mean, I was already planning on finishing the wall tomorrow. »

And in that moment Bucky swore, he felt infinite.

Ok, not really, but he was still pretty happy.

« Just wait till I put my shirt on. » Steve added, making him a little less happy.

 

Thirty minutes later they were sitting on a pub near the house, with a beer in hand and a heavy silence between them ― again.

Bucky had spent the last several minutes trying to find a good topic to talk about, but nothing came into his mind. Why was it so difficult to talk to Steve? That surely wasn't his first time out with a guy ― a guy who was probably straight as an arrow as he was straight as a damn shield, though.

« So, how long have you and Nat known each other? » the probably-straight-as-an-arrow-guy asked, finally breaking the silence between them.

Bucky took a long sip of golden liquid.

« Mh, it's been a year and a half, we worked together in a shitty russian bar. I know, it's not a long time to move in together, but I find time just an overrated measure. »

« Yeah, I suspected that. » the man said with a grin, probably referring to Bucky's unexpected invite.

He focused on the beer with a little smile, trying not to turn red for the embarrassment. Shit. Not that he was regretting his own words (he did it for ten minutes or so. Then Steve showed up with a white fitted shirt and a brown leather jacket), but maybe he should have waited to know him for, like, at least ten minutes before asking him out. _Maybe_.

« And what about you? » he asked, turning the question back to Steve, hoping to distract both of them from the awkward asking out moment.

« Oh, we had boxing class together, but I quit after six months because she kept beating the living crap out of me and it wasn't nice. » he laughed, and Bucky did the same.

But it was more to pretend that he was actually listening that actual fun ― because his brain froze to the image of Steve with tight pants throwing punches to a punching bag and hadn't really heard what came next.

« Okay, since the waiter's never gonna look this way, I'm going to ask another beer. You want something? » Steve asked, but Bucky shook his head. Maybe later, because for now he didn't want to be too drunk. Of course, that didn't mean he didn't want to see _Steve_ being drunk. Maybe he was the kind of drunk that kisses everything that comes his way. Bucky surely wasn't planning on complaining if that was the case.

When Steve got up, giving him a perfect view of a certain back part of his body, Bucky took out his phone and quickly wrote a short message to Nat, because he had to thank her for her stuff choices.

Two girls sat on the table next to him, one hitting him on the shoulder with her enormous bag. She apologized, and he got back to his phone.

When Steve got back with his new beer, he found Bucky with his head slightly inclined towards the girls, as if listening to their conversation.

« Isn't that a little creepy? » he asked with a low tone, making the other boy jump out of surprise anyway.

Bucky shook his head, laughing.

« As if I could understand a word. » he murmured back, glancing at the girls who hadn't stopped talking in a harsh, nordic-like language since they got in. Actually, he spent the last minutes trying to at least figure out where the girls were from (not that he was even remotely interested in them. They were good looking, but they were not Steve so), but didn't really get far. Well, whatever.

Then, Steve and him talked about so much stuff he actually lost count of how many topics they changed, but as long as they were talking, he didn't really care.

With the talking, alcohol came along and even if he tried to remain sober at the beginning, he lost count of his drinks too.  

And with every tips of beer, they got a little bit closer.

He got a message from Nat that said something like " _fuck him :)"_ and smiled. Then he heard the girls next to him saying something about a ship and then pointing at him, maybe they wondered if he was a sailor.

Next thing he knew, he was walking out the pub heading to the other guy's house.

And when the door of the apartment was closed behind him, Bucky found himself extremely happy that Steve actually turned out to be just as straight as a goddamn shield.

 

━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

**Message to: Nat ― _8.30 a.m._**

**_" i hella did it :)"_ **

 

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO EVERYONE. ♥
> 
> Bucking hell, I wrote an awesome corner and then internet decided to crash and ruin it all. Stupid internet.   
> Anyway: this fanfiction is for my lovely Ingrid (IJustReallyLikeFluff on ao3. Go check her works, guys. She's the best and she deserves all the love)'s birthday and im sO SORRY I'M LATE ;_____; but technically i'm not even a week late so i'm no that terrible, right???????  
> ok, don't answer that.  
> I really hope you liked it, and maybe you recognized some minor characters that sounded a little familiar ... <3 
> 
> I'm really tired so I didn't check properly for any eventual mistake, and I apologize for that. But I'm an italian lazy rolling pizza girl and I don't care if it's 10:30 of a saturday night, I'm so gonna sleep right now. #wastedyouth 
> 
> Happy Birthday again Bucky of my heart, and remember: vino buono in botte piccola & al tempo e al culo non si comanda. 
> 
> xoxo, 
> 
> E. ♥


End file.
